


Rufflebutts: The Crack Drabble

by FalNAngels4gedByFire



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Crack, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalNAngels4gedByFire/pseuds/FalNAngels4gedByFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previously posted on my former LiveJournal account</p>
<p>Original Description: "page61 posted in her journal that someone had wanted her to join a fan group for fans of 'rufflebutts', and that she was disappointed when she found out that it referred to ruffly diaper covers, and not Laura Roslin's skirt. Someone commented that maybe Laura had rufflebutts under the skirt. Then, I pointed out that they make ruffly underpants like that for grown women. Now, I can't get the idea out of my head of Madame President having on goofy, frilly panties under her presidential suits."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rufflebutts: The Crack Drabble

The click of her hard sole against the metal rung of the ladder seemed to fill the ship as the sound reverberated off of the bulkheads. Admiral Adama could swear that it was shaking something inside of him as each click brought the comforting familiarity of those well-worn school teacher pumps closer to his face.

_Maybe, if I'm bad enough, she'll give me detention,_ he thought to himself, as he imagined being ordered down onto the ground to lick them to a spit shine.

Then, he would work his way up her ankles to the sculptured calves that were in front of him now.

"Maybe Dr. Baltar could help you," he suggested absently.

He hadn't heard a word she had been saying, of course, but he hoped that the mention of Baltar would cause her to stop in her tracks, leaving her standing on the rung just a little bit longer. The angle was perfect where she was. He could see every inch of her statuesque legs, all the way to the hip.

Unfortunately for him, she only paused for an instant.

"I must have missed the part in the articles of colonization where the vice-president fixes toilets."

Adama didn't have a chance to speak before she continued, but his expression clearly said, _What?_

"I was talking about the plumbing problems on Colonial One."

"Oh, right," he recovered, if one could call that a recovery.

Laura continued down the ladder.

_Oh my Gods, if he gets any closer and I keep going, his head is going to end up on the inside of my skirt,_ she thought to herself. _Of course, that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing._

Laura tried to stop that line of thought as soon as it began. She was only partly successful, as she imagined him kissing his way up her legs to her...Oh frak, the panties. He can see the panties!

The panties were, simply put, one of only three pairs that she had left. Thus, she had been left with no choice but to start using them.

Unfortunately, they were not very presidential. In fact, they were little, purple low-rise briefs that almost, but didn't quite offer full coverage at the bottom of the cheek, and, worst of all, they were covered in ruffles--rows of delicate, little lacy ruffles from top to bottom.

Laura rushed down the ladder as quickly as she could.

Suddenly, she felt the bottom rung slide from under the ball of her foot. The heel of her shoe slammed into the ladder with a clunk that echoed off of the walls with enough force to be jarring in its own right, as she lost her footing and almost fell into Bill's arms.

As she grabbed the sides of the ladder to brace herself, she couldn't help but notice that Bill already had his arms out, ready to catch her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, of course," she said, regaining her composure as she stepped onto the solid, metal floor. "These shoes just weren't made for ladders."

"That's why I always stand at the bottom."

"Of course it is," she said incredulously. _Yeah, right,_ she thought.

As they continued down the corridor, Bill couldn't help but realize that those panties weren't Laura's style. The color wasn't too far off, based on what he'd managed to gleen about who she'd been on Caprica, before the fall, and the suit she'd been wearing the first time that he saw her. Yet, the style was just wrong, like something that someone would buy as a gift, knowing the recipient well, but not quite knowing every detail. Besides, she normally wore high-cuts with a smooth texture that he thought would be very touchable...not that he'd ever watched her go down the ladder before, or anything.

Bill couldn't help but wonder who bought them for her, especially since he'd never seen them before today. Did he have competition?

Of course, he couldn't exactly ask the president about her underwear.

Fortunately for Laura, the late Mrs. Adar had never asked about them either, even though she had once seen them in Laura's suitcase and realized how much they looked like the blue ones that her husband had given to her.


End file.
